Chapter 70 - Youre Screwing With Me, Right? (1/2)

Although this young man had no spirit in his eyes, he had a very well-shaped body, his height roughly 180 centimeters. He wore an ordinary gray short-sleeved s.h.i.+rt with a pair of jeans.

His spiritless eyes stared at Roland for a while, and then he walked over. Separated by the low red brick perimeter wall, he asked in a weak voice, “Friend, what are you doing here?”

“Just taking a look.” Roland s.h.i.+fted his gaze away from the young man. He stared at the two students sparring on the field and said unhurriedly, “I heard that this place was a miaodao club, so I came over to see if it was real.”

The young man grinned impa.s.sively, as if he were smiling without the intention of doing so. “Feel free to look around.”

The two sparring students held two long and curved wooden sabers, which indeed looked very similar to the tachi[1] of Wa[2], and the sequence of movements and attacks between the two were quite similar to kendo[3] at first glance.

No wonder people thought that miaodao techniques drew from kendo.

After watching the two spar for a while, Roland was certain that this miaodao club was indeed genuine.

After all, he had trained in boxing for two months—although he wouldn’t dare claim to be very strong, only slightly more impressive than a coach who has been teaching for over ten years, his discernment was also improved during this time.

One who trained in boxing naturally had to learn how to supply strength and withdraw strength, basic concepts that also existed in swordsmans.h.i.+p.

The strength when brandis.h.i.+ng the saber and the skillfulness when sheathing the saber, Roland could discern these things from the sparring students—they certainly had established some foundation.

After watching for a while, Roland asked the young man, “Fellow brother, where’s the boss and coach for this miaodao club?”

“I’m both.” The young man still had a dispirited and apathetic expression. He sized up Roland and said, “You seem to have established some foundation in martial arts.”

“Yes, I trained in boxing for two months!”

“Two months?” The young man finally showed a minute change in his expression, as if a light feather landed on the surface of a tranquil lake, setting off a light ripple.

“Yes.” Roland nodded.

“I see…”

The young man weakly mumbled a few words, and then suddenly his right hand cut diagonally upward, the tip of his palm seemingly about to jab Roland’s ribs.

On his part, Roland reacted extremely quickly at this moment. He t.i.tled his upper body backward as his knees instinctively came up and charged toward the young man’s abdomen.

However, all of a sudden, he stopped his movements.

Because he saw that the young man’s karate chop was only a feint that stopped halfway. It was merely a test, one without any ill intent.

At this very moment, their movements both seemed somewhat strange. The young man was in a half-horse stance, with his right hand in a posture of that of an upward strike with a longsword, while Roland had tilted his body backward. It was as if time had stopped.

After about two seconds, the two of them simultaneously stood straight and smiled awkwardly at each other.

The young man no longer had that apathetic expression he had earlier; his eyes had a somewhat excited expression in them. “It seems you’ve done well in your training. Want to come inside and spar?”

“Like I said, I’m a boxer, you’re a swordsman, I couldn’t possibly be a match for you.” Roland shook his head helplessly.

“I guess.” The young man sighed in disappointment, his expression back to that corpse-like lifelessness.

“Actually, I’ve come to learn miaodao techniques.” Roland looked at the young man and said with a light smile, “It seems the teaching here is quite orthodox—how much is the tuition?”

“Thirty thousand!”

“How much!?” Roland suspected that he’d heard wrong.

“Thirty thousand.” The young man yawned and continued, “Guaranteed to teach you until you’ve mastered it. If you’re stupid and can’t master it in a short amount of time, then I’ll teach you until you’ve mastered it. But you don’t look like a fool.”

Roland felt his head ache. “That number of yours is too outrageous. And the environment you have here doesn’t seem that good either. It feels lacking in cla.s.s—it’s not worth that much money.”

As he said this, he pointed at the shed supported by two layers of galvanized iron sheets. This sort of place appeared very much like a skating rink inside a small town twenty years ago.